Perhaps i am not imagining things. Perhaps, after all, there is some physical reality to the muddle of pleasant and embarrassing sensations to which i seem now to be prey.
i wrote about this before. From very early days, my breasts have been “playing up”. First off, they are sore. And uncomfortable. A couple of days back, i had to remove andrea’s head from where it was lying, as it has hundreds of times before, using my chest as a pillow.
It just hurt too much. Which, all things considered, is probably a good sign. It means that things are happening and even if there is no visible change yet – well, apart from an ever so slightly more feminine curve to the underside, which i don’t believe is just wishful thinking – my worst fear, that NOTHING might happen, is probably misplaced.
But back to that embarrassing problem. The downside is definitely the soreness. The upside is how sensitive they are. (Not to mention my nipples!).
I wake – and they are buzzing, tingling in a way i never knew was possible. i wear a loose t-shirt: it brushes the tips; and the sensation is almost unbearable.
At the weekend, again, i was driving: just the vibration of the car was creating a mixture of sensations at once pleasurable and unbearable. i finished the journey with one arm wrapped protectively across my chest – and have now invested in several M&S “invisible support” vests, which appear to do the trick.
Anyway, i was worrying that it was psychosomatic – though hard pressed to understand how so much sensation could be purely imagined. A pharmacist friend i spoke to at the weekend suggested otherwise. She pointed out that what i was describing was not dissimilar to what many women go through when pregnant.
It happens when your body is awash with oestrogen and – guess what! – i am currently awash with rather higher levels of oestrogen than most of the (non-pregnant) population ever get to experience .
I think i am relieved. At least it isn’t all inside my head.
Though its still pretty inconvenient.